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The Playground on Jessup Road
This following story is based off of several events from my childhood. It was something that did scar my heart deeply, until the ending that what I wrote made my heart feel much better... The Playground on Jessup Road A few years ago, when I was just a small child, I was very interested in the surroundings I had, and at the same time, I enjoyed the playful things in the world that I wasn't going to be receiving in an older age. What I am about to tell you is a story about something I had Halfly witnessed in my childhood. When I was very young, about eight years old, I lived in a tiny and organized apartment in the big apartment community of Timber Falls. It was a place that had scarred many memories of my childhood in the back of my heart, however, this community is not the story that I am about to share with you. When I was at the young age of eight, me and my brother, who was as young as seven at the time, had been kindly invited to Grandma's house for a social visit. There is not too much that I could remember of the entire day, but what I do remember is, on that day my grandpa took me and my little brother to the Playground on Jessup Road. It seemed like any old little playground. There were yellow rusted monkey bars, swirly slides with written graffiti in the inside, and irritatingly squeaky swings that had just waited to be played around with. When Grandpa took us to the Playground on Jessup, we didn't argue a bit. He had parked his car near the gate and safely tucked the wheels into it's perfect place, assuring that it was play time for us. Me and my brother rushed out of the vehicle and clumsily walked down the long stairs towards the little stage where performers would play, and zoomed into the playground. It was so much fun for me and him! Grandpa sat and watch as we played with the slides, and played on the big train model! The funnest part was the tiny construction cranes that were built in the big sand box that we were able to play in. It was so fun, and even though My brother and I argued a few times over who got the best working crane, I let him have it anyway, and we had fun until than. But than the whole fun went to a complete stop, when grandpa begin to act rather awkwardly. As we played the little cranes, grandpa suddenly jumped up, and immediately grabbed us, picking us up. He hurried to take us home, FAST. All he told us was "We're going home now. Hurry." I asked grandpa what it was that scared him, but he refused to say. He would not tell me what it was, but to me, as a young girl, I wasn't worried. I had no working emotions. At the time, there we're issues I had that I had no idea I had, but to this day, grandpa still doesn't tell me what he saw that day that made us have to leave so quickly. Until A few years later, I had to come back to that playground, at twelve years old. My brother had recently joined The Football Team at our school and the football practices were at the field next to the park. It was the same school who hated me because I wasn't like everyone else. I was quiet, wierd, obsessive, laughed over everything, and I was chubby. I had to return to that playground again. So I did, I felt as if everything was going to be alright, because the incident at eight to me was no big deal. My little brother got on his safety football pads and other gear, and raced out to his team. He was happy to be hanging out with his friends, but for me I felt so stranded. The Teenagers were everywhere. Everywhere I looked there was teens from 14 years old to 18. It made me scared to speak up. I had my Walkman mp3 with me, however, which made me feel safer than I did. What I did was I sat on the swings of the playground, and began swinging to the music I was listening to. I was listening to Careless Whisper covered by Seether. It comforted me greatly, and it continued that way for weeks since. That was, until than, when the Browns arrived to the playground. There were an entire family of teenagers with the last name of Brown. They had arrived to the park, and what I saw certainly startled me. The boy who bullied me at school was playing football too, and he brought his whole family. It took them no time to point on me, and laugh. The teenagers were scary at the time, because I was only twelve and the others were kids that were nearly at eighteen years of age. All the Browns did was laugh, and pass the rumors, and say the lies. I sat on the bench, and all they did was yell "Hey, it's the cookie monster! Protect your cookies, kids!" As they pointed at me. I had no help but to cry, And it was every day they did it to me. They wouldn't stop, and as my eyes now water up with tears as I'm typing this, I still remember everything, even though I wish I didn't, and writing it all in this story just let's it out. One of those days that followed me, that was when the teenagers took it way to far. As I sat on the squeaky swings that I played on, just hoping that they could not be at the playground today, they came, and they began to approach me laughing as they did. I blocked my face so they couldn't see. Instead, they sat down on the swings next to me, they keep saying "Want a cookie, cookie monster? Too bad. Please don't rage at me. I already know how the first letter to Cookie is spelled." They were surrounding me. I couldn't take it anymore, and than the eighteen year old Brown finally grabbed onto my swing and began,twisting and twirling me around, the irritating crunchy sounds of the chains rubbing against each other. I just couldn't take it. I couldn't. After that day, I hid. I hid away in a completely different part of the playground. Until the Browns found me there too. Everytime I told my parents, they did nothing about it. They believed I was overexagerating because they saw no proof. I finally started staying at Grandma's house whenever Nathan did his football practices, so I wouldn't have to handle the bullies anymore. Because it wasn't possible for me. That playground since had always been a damning of my childhood since the day I left it. I tried keeping myself away from those teenagers. I moved to a different set of swings. But who stopped me? The Police. This policeman didn't ask questions. He told me that the swings I were in were for little kids, even though they had the same size as the older kids swings. I was just trying to stay away from those teenagers.... Those damned teenagers. After than, I had always knew I would never accept going there again. This is the part of the story that reflects the future of the playground. I will tell you, that there was once a man who entered that playground. He was 25, and he had entered the park to never forget the memories he had in the childish past. The swings, the bars, and the little shady room next to it all was rustier than ever. He cared not. His last name was Brown, and he was the boy who twisted my swings, and hurt me... The night that he had viewed the playground was very dim and dark. There were absolutely no one around, and it gave the sick boy a great opportunity to cause mischief in the Playground. He began spraying the swings, and writing inappropriate symbols and words onto the surface. It would've sickened many people if they saw. Until suddenly, there was a song playing in the distance. It was very familiar, and it was much remembered. Not by him, but by someone else. However, he believed that it was just a party down the road that played the music, and so he continually sprayed the play sets, until the music began louder, which started to frighten him as he could feel as if the music was a person, walking right up to him. It felt like the song was approaching him. He begin to look around worryingly, believing he was just having an active imagination. As he continued, he was frightened enough to want to leave. He started his way out towards the gateway, until than he turned around to check again, and saw a little girl there, with a playful face. She was swinging on the swings, humming happily to her music. Those same swings that he had swung me around on that day when I was so young. The girls eyes slowly turned to him, and they glowed a white color. She grinned. The song was still playing, and the boy could see the Mp3 player in her hand. It was playing Carless Whisper. The girl waved to him. The man was horrified. He didn't even stand anymore. He ran. Faster than he's ever done before in his entire life. He never believed that this would happen to him. He remembered it all now. The bullying, the lying, the swinging.... He didn't think. He just ran across the road towards his house, praying to make it and hopefully sleep. He didn't make it that night, because right after that night, a new report in the newspaper had stated that Jonathon Brown was brutally killed that night by a car collision. My assumption was that he ran, ran as fast as he could, and than a car just rammed him out. That was the last time he was heard from. The policeman had checked evidence of the vehicle and it's driver. There was no driver. The ending of assumption may not have been true, but most of it was as truthful as it would get. Yes, Grandpa did panic and take us out unexplainably. And Yes, I was brutally bullied at the playground on Jessup road. The park in Jessup is still there, and if you go there, you will feel as if something happened there. If you ever visit The Playground, you will see it is entered by a long staircase that ends up to a little wooden stage. If you pass by the stage, you will enter a little gateway to the Playground behind it. If you go in a constant walk towards the swingset, you will begin to feel like something had happened there. If you sit on the big tire swing on the set, you are sitting on the same place where they bullied me, and twisted my chains. If you sit on that tire swing and wait long enough, you will begin to hear the sounds of two chains rubbing roughly against each other (Unless that is you doing it with the chains of the swing). Category:Creepypasta